The Distant Crown
The air in the stone cellar was thick, heavy with the scent of damp earth and the metallic tang of old blood, a smell that seemed to cling to the back of Eamon’s throat as he held the heavy, iron-bound box against his chest, his knuckles white with the effort of keeping it closed while his brother, Cillian, paced the narrow space with the restless, predatory energy of a man who had been waiting...
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